White Space Season 2

reason that he was a clueless tool without any class.
    Warren went on, “We’re offering donations to the victims’ families. We’d like to offer something to Vivian and Cassidy Hughes. Do you think they would show up for the conference? We are naming the building in Sarah’s honor.”
    Jon’s jaw dropped.
    Don’t they need permission to do something like that? Did they go talk to Vivian? They sure as hell didn’t approach me or Cassidy!
    Blake, turned to Warren, “Don’t be so daft, Son. Jesus. I’m sorry, Jon. They don’t need to come. We can, and should, discuss this some other time.”
    Jon rubbed his jaw, staring at Warren, “Are you really trying to pay off the Hughes with guilt money and naming a fucking building after Sarah?”
    “What?” Warren said, eyes wide and face twisted into a mockery of shock.
    “Don’t think for a moment that I don’t know what you’re doing,” Jon whispered, eyeing the front of the church to make sure Cassidy was still saying goodbyes to Emma. “You’re using victims to buy publicity at a discount.”
    “Now, now,” Blake said, “forget Warren said anything. It was insensitive.”
    Jon wasn’t ready for a leash. He met Blake’s eyes.
    “Tell me, Father, is this about trying to make Conway Industries look good, or are you feeling guilty?”
    “What?” he said, wearing the same thin sweater of feigned shock as his eldest son, though time and practice made it neater on his face.
    Jon didn’t want to fight.
    Not here.
    Not now.
    He knew he shouldn’t, but his mouth kept going anyway.
    “Don’t think I’m oblivious Father. I know what you and Boy Warren have been doing to the Hughes family. How you blackmailed Sarah, using Cassidy for leverage. How you prevented me from learning about my daughter. And now you bastardize Sarah’s memory by naming a fucking psych hospital after her? Really?”
    Warren looked away, but Blake’s gaze grew in intensity until it was boring through Jon.
    “Now is not the time for this, Son. Nor the place.”
    “You’re right,” Jon said, raising his voice several decibels louder than he wanted. His leg twitched with nervous inertia, wanting to burst. He couldn’t believe he was finally about to lay into his father.
    “Now isn’t the time or place. This is a funeral, for a child you tried to keep from me — a funeral that wouldn’t be happening if you hadn’t fucking interfered!”
    Jon pointed his finger at both Blake and Warren.
    “You two walk around Hamilton like you own everything and everyone on the island, as if people are your personal puppets. It’s about damned time someone called you out.”
    Blake stood, voice placid, though his face was a volcanic red.
    Jon felt many eyes on him, but wasn’t willing to turn to look and risk his resolve.
    “I want you gone,” Jon said. “Take your money and choke on it, Father. Choke until you die.”
    “I know you don’t mean this, Son,” Blake said, reaching out to place a hand on Jon’s shoulder, trying to guide the moment toward a better memory as he was so famous for doing.
    But Jon wouldn’t be controlled. Not anymore.
    “Get out!” he roared.
    Warren stared at Jon as if seeking a rematch of their fight at The Gardens. Blake glared at Jon, then dusted the front of his suit with his long, strong fingers as if his son’s words held no meaning, then turned and left the church with Warren and Melinda walking behind him. Melinda turned at the door, sending one last sheepish look back at Jon, mouthing the words, “I’m sorry.”
    Jon held his eyes on the trio, watching until they disappeared through the doors. He felt Vivian’s eyes, along with Mrs. Lindley’s, then turned to face them. Vivian clapped, stood, and threw her arms around Jon. “Goddammit, I love you, Jonny!”
    Jon saw Cassidy, staring back at him from the front of the church. She nodded, a silent thank you as she rubbed tears from her eyes.
    Jon joined her at the front of the church.
    “Wow,” she said.
    “Yeah, wow.”
    “I bet you’re not getting a Christmas card this year, though you guys probably send each other endangered species or some shit.”
    She laughed and so did Jon, pulling Cassidy closer to him. He saw his daughter, lying in the casket, and wondered if she, too, heard his outburst. And if so, he wondered if it had given her comfort, wherever she was? He remembered how happy Emma had been when he decked Warren, how she looked at him like her hero.
    To think, I’ll